The Labyrinth
by BlueSkyDream
Summary: He was living in a maze and they were counting on her to pull him out of it.


**The Labyrinth**

**Summary: He was living in a maze and it was up to her to save him.**

**Author's Note: This is my first Inception fan fiction and I hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.**

* * *

She drifted anxiously out of the ocean. A large wave formed behind her and rose over her head before crashing into her, causing her to swallow several mouthfuls of saltwater. She began to cough as she broke through the surface of the water, desperately gasping for air. The surf was abnormally rough this time, much rougher than she could remember it had been previously. She was just feet from the shore now, but she had to struggle to remain balanced as one wave after another hammered into her small frame.

She stopped to catch her breath when she reached the water's edge, looking both up and down the beach eagerly. She searched the entire area thoroughly with wary eyes. She pushed a lock of her hair away from her face with great haste, promptly chastising herself when she saw that he was not there. She scoffed quietly, realizing how foolish she had been. She knew how absurd it was, but a part of her could not help but hope that she would find him there, on the sand, waiting for her. Waiting for someone to rescue him.

It was something that she had hoped for every single time she came down here. She had wanted to believe that he had actually known this was dream all along, but she knew better than that. It was nothing but a lie. Although she could still hope, the logical side of her knew that it would be impossible. He had accepted this dream as his reality long ago. It pained her to know that he had lost himself, lost touch with reality. She felt a tremendous amount of disappointment in herself that she was not able to help him sooner.

He had been lost here, in limbo, for thirty years now, and it had been anything but kind to his mind. The fact that he could no longer remember her made her feel uneasy. She swallowed nervously, remembering the last time she had spoken to him. It had been alarmingly difficult for him to even tell her his own name. All he could remember was her, Mal, and he declared that he was not leaving. He was convinced that Ariadne was lying to him and told her to please leave.

She had left willingly, but only because she felt sick. Walking back to the beach, she ripped the gun that she had from its holster roughly. She shut her eyes, raised the gun to her temple, and fired.

Back in the warehouse, she pulled the needle from her arm and raced to the bathroom, ignoring Cobb's questions. She pushed the door open, her hand searching the wall for the light-switch. Finally finding it, she turned it on and knelt in front of the toilet. Gathering her smooth copper hair neatly into one hand, she leaned down and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl.

After that time, she had told Cobb that she would not be going down there ever again. Somehow, though, he had found a way to convince her to give it one more try, for Arthur. She reluctantly agreed, and a few days later, she was back in limbo. That time, however, Mal had been waiting for her. She shot her in the head before she even had a chance to make it off the sand.

She woke up with a start, struggling to catch her breath. Cobb stood by the window, his eyes blazing with animosity. She stood up and approached him slowly, tears spilling down her cheeks. She knew that she was the cause of all this and needed to apologize.

_I'm sorry._

The sound of her voice caused him to whirl around to face her, his expression softening just slightly.

_It isn't your fault._

Ariadne nodded slowly, even though she knew that it was.

_I can't do this again._

Cobb said nothing more, only brushing past her, leaving her alone in the warehouse with Eames and Arthur.

Nothing happened for a week. Cobb did not come back.

Ariadne stayed with Arthur, patiently watching him as he continued to dream. She sat by him each day, holding his hand within hers as she thought. She spent many hours developing and finalizing a plan in her head. As much as she did not want to go back into limbo, she knew she had to do something. She would do what ever it took to help Arthur. Mal had been holding Arthur hostage long enough.

Only after she had thought every aspect of the plan through did she approach Cobb. It was her who had to convince him to try again this time. He hesitantly agreed to let her go. The two of them discussed the plan with Eames and she went under the next morning.

What she did not want to admit, however, was that she was afraid, afraid of what Mal could do. She had sabotaged Ariadne's efforts before, and she knew that there was nothing stopping her from doing again. Ariadne tried her very best to learn to ignore the fear, knowing that the fear would do nothing to benefit her cause. Worrying about what could and could not happen was dangerous. It threatened to distract her from her purpose, which was to find Arthur and pull him out of the maze before it was too late.

She was willing to do anything in her power to prevent that from happening. She had a firm understanding of how crucial it was that she succeeded this time. This was their very last chance. If something happened and she failed this time, she did not see the purpose in coming back again. Arthur's mind was so far gone that it was clear that if she did not bring him back to reality _now_ that he would be lost forever.

The manner in which his mind had deteriorated so far so fast horrified them all. No one had seen it coming. Not her, not Eames, not even Cobb. Cobb had spent decades longer in this place, and his mind had not even come close to suffering the type of damage that Arthur's had. Cobb had survived limbo unscathed; Ariadne only hoped that she could say the same for Arthur.

She wondered to herself sometimes why she had not been expecting this to happen?

She knew Arthur very well and was aware of just how much knowledge he possessed about sharing dreams. But, could a person ever really be prepared for limbo? She bit down on her bottom lip until she could taste blood. She felt responsible for this. She hated herself.

_How could you let this happen?_

She blinked tears back angrily as she moved away from the water, beginning her slow trek up the beach. Her clothes were drenched and her dark hair stuck to her back in thick ropes. She pressed forward across the sand, moving a hand to her face to protect her eyes from the intense sun. She had been forced to come down here so many times before that she memorized the entire layout of the city. She had a clear picture of where everything was and knew exactly where she needed to go.

The house was four blocks away. She decided that her best bet would be to check there first. She left the beach and walked briskly through the city streets, keeping an eye out for him just in case she spotted him on her journey. She was growing more and more discouraged as she walked, realizing that the city seemed to be all but deserted. By the time the house had come into her view, she had only come across a small handful of people.

She approached the house carefully, hoping that she would not run into Mal this time. She brushed a stray lock of her hair out of her eyes as she climbed the front steps. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she walked across the porch and pushed the front door open slightly before stepping inside. She walked slowly through the entire first floor of the house, letting out an immense sigh of relief only when she saw that there was no sign of Mal. That was a very good thing.

It meant that her plan was working perfectly so far. She had been smiling for only a moment when she slowly came to realize that there was also no sign of Arthur. That was a very bad thing. Her smile immediately vanished off her face.

She felt a distinct heavy, sinking feeling in her chest as thick tears began to pool in her eyes. She swallowed heavily, wiping them away just as quickly as they had appeared. She looked around, scanning each room again desperately. This was exactly what she had been afraid of; it was clear that Mal was deliberately hiding him somewhere. She shook her head in annoyance; this angered her more than anything. Mal had done this type of thing before and Ariadne hated her for her it.

She could not wrap her head around why Mal was doing this. Why was she so consumed with trying to keep Arthur trapped here? This was not a joke. This was about trying to preserve what little sanity Arthur had left for his own sake. Ariadne would have expected that she, of all people, could understand that. So, why_ didn't_ she?

She stopped in her tracks, trying to think quickly. She obviously needed to come up with a new plan. She knew she had to find him and if that meant that she would have to confront Mal first, then it just would have to be done. She did not have much of a choice this time. There was no way that she would let herself fail now. She could not just give up her search for him, like she had been forced to do several times in the past.

Mal had once hidden him so well in within this maze that even after hours of searching, Ariadne had been unable to track him down before the time had run out on the machine.

She swallowed again, the inside of her mouth drying up as she moved forward, approaching the staircase. She looked up nervously, lightly placing her hand on the railing.

"Arthur?" She called weakly; her voice was small, like a child's, and she did not recognize it.

She was embarrassed, suddenly aware how badly she was shaking. She knew she needed to be strong to save him. She did not want to let Arthur down. He was counting on her, even if he himself did not know it. He would _want _her not to be afraid, but she _was_. She was terrified. She had personally witnessed more times than she wanted to remember just how violent Mal could become in the dreamscape.

Of course, Ariadne realized that she did not really exist, but she could not help but feel intimidated by her. So much so, that she was the very, _very _last person that Ariadne would ever want to run into in a place like this, especially now, when she was all alone. Gathering up as much of her courage as she could, she slowly began to ascend the stairs. She stopped, freezing for just a brief moment when she thought she heard a soft noise behind her. She removed her hand from the railing and whirled around, stepping back down into the hallway. Her breath caught in her throat harshly when her eyes focused on her.

She stood just a few feet away from her, staring her down from the next room; Ariadne did not break eye contact, attempting to mask her fear. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek as she watched Mal take a step towards her. She brushed her fingertips lightly against the gun she carried on her hip. Ariadne blinked, taking a small step back cautiously. She cleared her throat, trying to remind herself to stand a little bit taller than she would normally. She wanted to give Mal the impression that she was not afraid of her. She had learned long ago that Mal had the ability to sense even the smallest bit of weakness in a person and that she would waste absolutely no time using that weakness to her advantage.

She shook her head, wanting to scream at her in frustration. She wanted to demand Mal to tell her where he was. She opened to mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyebrows knit together suddenly, realizing that her voice had gone. She heard Mal scoff, her lips spreading into a soft smile. She froze again as Mal took a further step into the hallway, cornering her in front the staircase.

"I thought I told you never to come here again." She spoke gently; her tone was strangely melodic and threatening at the same time.

Ariadne looked down for just a moment, hiding her trembling hands in the pockets of her jeans so that Mal would not see. She felt ashamed at just how quickly she had crumbled. Mal's eyes were penetrating and they pierced right through Ariadne's artificial demeanor. She suddenly found it almost impossible to look in the other woman's eyes. They were different than Ariadne had remembered. They appeared calm, but possessed an underlying spark of darkness and rage that were threatening to spill over at any moment.

"You shouldn't have come here, little girl." Mal hissed, her expression darkening.

She was standing so close to her now that she was almost in the young architect's face. Ariadne could feel her hot breath slap her cheeks when she leaned in close.

"I…" Ariadne croaked, her voice breaking.

Her cheeks flushed instantly and she wished for a moment, only for a moment, that she could disappear. She wished that she had the ability to go back in time. She wanted to go back to the time before she had allowed herself to be talked into performing a task that she knew she could not do. She wanted to go back to before she met Cobb and had before she gotten dragged into this peculiar world. She only wanted to go back to being an average architectural college student, before her mind had been corrupted by this whole idea of sharing dreams. This whole debacle surrounding Arthur had only made her recently understand what exactly she had gotten herself into.

_Arthur would not be here if it weren't for you._

She had initially refused to go back and she could only wonder why she had given in so easily. Why did she not insist that Cobb or even Eames go in her place? She had tried to tell them every reason under the sun why this was a horrible idea, but they did not listen. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, they both felt that she was the best candidate for the job. Did they not realize how many times she had failed to pull Arthur out of this? Obviously, they were wrong; she was _not _the best candidate for the job.

Nothing she could ever think of say to him was enough to make Arthur realize that this was a dream. It dawned on her suddenly how selfish she had been. She had just wanted Arthur back. Her stomach twisted with a sudden sense of guilt, realizing that she had clearly not thought all of the risks through in the way that she should. Mal had outsmarted her yet again.

Now, Arthur was in serious danger of being lost forever and it was going to be all her fault. As if she did not already hate herself enough for allowing this to happen to him in the first place, her self-loathing only just intensified. She just hoped that when she woke up without him, Eames and Cobb would understand. She did not want them to hate her too.

"You don't belong here." Mal snapped, although her tone was eerily calm.

"Where is Arthur?" She questioned her desperately, finally gaining enough control of her voice to speak.

"He doesn't want to see you." Mal answered dismissively, turning away from her.

Ariadne's arm shot out to grab Mal's, stopping the older woman from walking away from her. She looked back up at her, her jaw tensing before she repeated herself evenly. "Where is he, Mal?"

"He's not here." She replied patiently, as if she was speaking to a small child.

A sense of anger suddenly flared up inside of Ariadne as she studied her in disbelief. She released her grip on her arm. "You're lying. I know he's here somewhere. You're hiding him from me."

Mal scoffed again, rolling her eyes. "Why would I be hiding him from you?"

The architect shook her head, blinking back a new set of tears. "Mal, please. Tell me where he is. He needs to wake up before…"

"Why should he wake up? What good would it do, Ariadne? The damage has already been done." Mal explained.

For a brief moment, Ariadne imagined that she heard a bit of sadness and regret in her voice.

"His mind is gone."

"Arthur can't stay here. This is _not_ reality."

Mal only shrugged at her, leaving the room.

Ariadne followed close behind.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Ariadne asked her curiously.

Mal stopped suddenly and turned to face her again. She was smiling gently. "You don't understand. Arthur believes that this _is _reality. He likes it here. He's happy. He doesn't want to go back."

"How would you know?" Ariadne challenged, knitting her eyebrows together tightly.

"You're too late, little girl. You're only wasting your time." She explained, ignoring the architect's questions.

Ariadne feared that what Mal was saying was true. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously as she tried to think of something else to say. The sound of Mal's voice interrupted her thought process.

"You want Arthur to be happy, don't you?" Mal inquired, her eyes growing wider.

"Of course I do." Ariadne asked impatiently, exasperated.

"Then you need to go back where you came from and _never_, ever come back. Arthur is no longer interested in your reality. He doesn't miss you. He never even _thinks _of you. He has a life here and he is not leaving." She snapped, her eyes burning softly with rage.

Ariadne felt her cheeks warm with anger. "You cannot keep him here. This isn't real. I am not leaving here without him."

Mal's expression changed almost instantly. She took a step back, all of the anger leaving her eyes, replaced with an emotion that Ariadne could not identify. The corners of her mouth turned up into another smile.

"How do you _know_ this is a dream?" Mal questioned smoothly, almost in a mocking tone.

Ariadne ignored her taunting, stalking through the house and back through the front door. She knew that Mal was attempting to mess with her head, to make her doubt things, like she had gotten Arthur to. She shook her head in frustration; there was no way that she would allow that to happen. She did not now why she expected Mal to help her. She never had in the past and she could not identify the reason she had thought that this time might be any different. Speaking with her was nothing but a massive waste of time. Ariadne realized that she had again been foolish and now precious time had been wasted that she could have been spent searching for him.

Mal followed her out onto the porch and watched her silently until she was out of sight. Her cobalt eyes brightened as she watched her in amusement. It was clear that Mal knew something that Ariadne had yet to discover. Something about the young architect reminded Mal of a child, so hopeful, yet at the same time, so naïve. She could not say that it shocked her. She could still remember when she had been introduced to this idea, this world of sharing dreams. Mal laughed; the sheer amount of herself that she could see in Ariadne was exceptional.

Unlike Ariadne, Mal had understood that nothing could ever prepare you for limbo. It did not matter what you thought you knew about it. It did not matter how prepared you thought you were. If you ever ended up there you would always find it to be worse than what you had imagined, _always_. Ariadne had severely misjudged the damage that time spent here could do to the human mind, just as she Cobb initially had; and now Arthur too. What Ariadne did not understand was that Arthur was gone. Arthur had _been_ gone a long time.

Whether or not he made it back to reality really did not matter at this point. His mind was so dissolved that Mal knew that the Arthur that Ariadne was so desperately hoping to find simply did not exist anymore. _That_ Arthur was so far gone Mal knew that there was very little chance that he would ever find his way back.

* * *

Her legs ached. She had been walking for what seemed like miles and was still no closer to finding him. She let out a slow frustrated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk back the way that she came. She was running out of time, but she no longer cared. She had willingly given up, fighting back tears as she retraced her steps.

She had accepted that she would not be getting Arthur back. She did not have any choice not to. She was certain that she had searched the entire city and Arthur was nowhere to be found. Mal had gotten exactly what she wanted and that made Ariadne furious. Her hands had balled into fists and she dug her fingernails into her palms bitterly until tiny crescent moons had formed on her skin. She had tried so hard and it was all for nothing.

Mal's words mocked her, reverberating through her mind over and over again. It was driving her crazy.

_You're too late._

Was she?

She suddenly realized that she did not know what she expected she might see when she found him. Mal had kept him here so long. If he had forgotten that this was a dream, what else might he have forgotten? Would he remember _anything_? It was illogical for her to think that he would recognize her, but a small part of her still held out the hope that it might be possible.

She glanced back at the house briefly on her way back to the beach. She hurried past it, seeing that Mal was still out on the front porch. Ariadne was aware that she had seen her too; by the way Mal had leaned back on the chair she was sitting in with a satisfied look on her face, watching the young architect diligently until she disappeared. Ariadne turned away from her and did not utter a single word; feeling disgusted.

She stopped only when she was close enough to the beach that she could hear the sound of the waves crashing into the shore. She was alone on the street, but up ahead of her, she could just barely make out the silhouette of a person on the sand. Their body was hunched over slightly and she could not tell whether this person was male or female. Letting her curiosity getting the best of her, Ariadne crossed the street and walked out onto the sand.

Her eyebrows knit together tightly as she took a few steps towards them, studying them intensely. Her eyes widened and she gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. She stared at him with tears in her eyes.

It was him.

He had aged quite a bit, but she was certain.

Try as she might, she never could get the image of him out of her head.

She could not bring herself to forget him, even thought she knew that he had forgotten _her_.

His back was to her, but she noticed that he seemed to be in a daze, gazing blankly at the water. She began approached him slowly; she was not expecting him to recognize her and she did not want to frighten him.

"Hi, Arthur." She called gently, looking down at him in concern.

He seemed to have had no reaction. He did not speak nor did he take his eyes off the water. Ariadne worried for only a moment that she had maybe mistaken a projection for Arthur. He was not the Arthur that she recognized. She sensed that something about him had been changed and it scared her.

His silence and the manner in which his body was trembling told her that there was something wrong. Instantly concerned, she went over to him and sat down next to him on the warm sand. She tilted her head to one side and watched him carefully, wishing, perhaps foolishly, that he would speak to her. She only wanted him to show her a sign, any one at all, that he still possessed even just a shred of the personality he once had. She would take anything that she could get to experience even just the slightest bit of comfort. Hesitating for a moment, she reached over slowly and touched his arm gently, trying her best to smile at him.

"Arthur?" She asked again mildly.

He was quiet for a long while, causing her to wonder if he had even heard her. She frowned, trying her best to ignore the tears pooling her eyes. She blinked quickly, stroking his forearm softly. She looked away from him, focusing instead on the reflection of the sunlight against the surf. She only turned back to glance at him when she thought he heard him attempt to say something.

"Who are you?" He murmured carefully, lifting his head up so that he could see her for the first time.

She shook her head slowly, feeling her heart all but break. She removed her hand from his arm and tucked a lock of hair securely behind her ear. It still pained her each and every time he asked her who she was. It was clear to her now that he was in a lot worse condition that she had ever wanted to imagine. She swallowed, trying to suppress the sick feeling that she had in her stomach. His eyes were eerily hollow, almost expressionless, but she could identify an odd sense of placidity in them. She cleared her throat absently, realizing that she knew that look. She recognized it as the same look she had seen in Mal's eyes earlier back at the house.

"My name is Ariadne." She responded evenly, hoping that the sound of her name might ignite a spark of familiarity inside him.

"Ariadne." He spoke delicately, studying her curiously.

"That's right." She said, offering him another smile. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, believing that she had seen tears in his eyes. "Do you remember me, Arthur?"

He watched her questioningly for a long time, studying her expression carefully before looking away.

"What do you want?" He asked timidly, gazing back out at the ocean.

She swallowed harshly, leaning in closer to him slightly before speaking.

"I want to help you." She retorted gently, her gaze softening. "You've lost yourself."

He turned to stare at her; he seemed angry. His light blue eyes had grown so intense that it was as if he was looking through her rather than at her. She tried to hide her sense of urgency by keeping her voice has steady as she could.

"I'm here to wake you up, Arthur. None of this is real. You're dreaming." She explained steadily, trying to remind him of what he had once known, but had forgotten so long ago.

"I can't." He whispered, surprising her.

"Why?" She breathed out quickly, astonished.

"I don't want to leave her. Mal needs me. I promised her I would stay." He declared, slowly getting to his feet, peering down at her darkly.

She stood up with him. "Arthur, please, you have to wake up now. If you don't then you'll be lost forever."

He fell silent again, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, unsure of what she could possibly say to him to get him to remember that this was all a dream.

He shook his head abruptly, his voice so faint that she almost had not heard him. "You don't understand. I _promised_."

She could no longer stop the tears from spilling over and sliding down her cheeks. She was pleading with him now. "Arthur, she is _not _real. She's only a projection. Mal is dead, remember?"

"I don't believe you." He replied harshly, glaring at her. "You're lying."

"No…" Ariadne answered, her voice breaking unexpectedly.

He turned away from her. "You need to go now."

He began to walk away from her, but she grabbed his arm quickly, stopping him. "Arthur, I don't have much time left. Please, just listen to me, okay? I'm telling you the truth. I would never lie to you, Arthur. I'm trying to save you. This isn't real. You really have to wake up now, okay?"

He was quiet.

His expression had changed abruptly, his eyes growing softer. He hesitated before trying to say something. His gaze met hers once again and she thought that she observed a sense of something cross his face for only a brief second that had been totally absent up until now. Was it awareness, maybe?

"Why am I here?" He seemed to ask of himself rather than her slowly, trying to remember.

Ariadne reached over, taking his hand in hers earnestly. This time, she was certain that there were tears in his eyes. "It's my fault you're here. You were only trying to protect me and you got shot. I'm sorry, Arthur. It should have been me instead of you. I'm so sorry that I let this happen to you."

Arthur's eyebrows knit together loosely as he tried to take this in. He studied the golden sand below his feet before speaking again. "I…I can't remember."

She frowned disappointedly, squeezing his hand gently. "It's ok. I know you don't remember. You forgot you were dreaming a long time ago. This isn't reality. It is time for you to wake up. I'm sorry I let you down before, but I need you to trust me, Arthur. Can you do that for me?"

He shut his eyes and it appeared to her that he was experiencing a moment of lucidity. She held her breath.

"This is a dream." He spoke apprehensively, as if trying to persuade himself.

"Yes."

Ariadne silently slid her gun from its holster and showed it to him.

"How can you be so certain?" Arthur whispered nervously, opening his eyes again. He swallowed heavily as he studied the gun in her hand intently. "How do you know this is just a dream?"

"I just know." Ariadne insisted, holding the gun out to him. "You can trust me, Arthur. Please."

He hesitated for a moment, but took the gun anyway. Holding it in his own wrinkled hand, he seemed unsure of himself. The feel of the cool, black metal made him feel uneasy. She noticed that he reminded her of a lost child. His eyes widened in fear and he was trembling again. He looked to her desperately for some reassurance.

"What…What if I don't wake up?" He questioned meekly, his voice shaking like a leaf.

Ariadne tried to smile at him, attempting to offer him as much of a sense of comfort that she could. She knew that he was nervous and she worried that he would back out of this if she did not do something. She reached over and brushed her fingertips tightly across his cheek for a moment, trying to keep the tone of her voice low and firm.

"Believe me, Arthur. I promise you, you _will_ wake up, okay?" She answered gently, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Ariadne?" He asked suddenly, hesitating.

She saw a certain amount of bleakness in his eyes and it hurt her more than she was sure he was capable of realizing.

"Yeah?"

"This wasn't your fault." He told her sincerely, a wounded look in his eyes.

She was silent, nodding her head sadly. Her cheeks flushed, feeling ashamed of herself. She realized that she knew what Arthur had really meant to say.

_This was all your fault._

He kept his eyes locked on her, swallowing audibly. A full minute passed before he tightened his grip on the gun, trying to gain control of his shaking hand. She watched as he pressed the gun against his temple tensely, flinching only slightly when she heard it fire.

Arthur fell.

* * *

**Author's Note: Any feedback you have is greatly appreciated.**


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